


The Desk

by Persiflage



Series: Bondkink Fics [67]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Desk Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fingerfucking, Gift Fic, Older Woman/Younger Man, Panty Removal Recommended..., Workplace Relationship, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 21:55:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2125977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bond's returned from a six week mission, and M has a very nice welcome for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Desk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wolfsbride](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfsbride/gifts).



> This is a sequel to [The Bath](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2066580) and is written for Wolfsbride's birthday, but she couldn't wait for me to post it on the day, so here it is as an early birthday gift fic!

The last six weeks have been so fraught that they have felt more like six months to M. Bond's been on an assignment in Eastern Europe, and barely got out alive and in one piece. As she watches him over her desk while he finishes answering Tanner's questions, she wonders what state he's in mentally, but she knows better than to send him to Dr Hall; Bond despises psychiatrists, and will never willingly cooperate with them. Instead, she decides she's going to do a slightly risky thing, and invite Bond to her place for dinner. The biggest risk comes from the fact that the night before he flew out on this mission, he visited her at her flat, and they ended up fucking each other silly over the course of several hours. M doesn't regret it – after all, regret is unprofessional, and she's fairly sure Bond doesn't either, but she's not absolutely certain. The other uncertainty is where their relationship stands now – fucking her agent is a dangerous thing to do given how much the Old Boy Network hates her: they'd see it as one more reason why a woman shouldn't be head of the Secret Intelligence Service – but she knows that she would do it again given the opportunity, and that would blur the lines between them.

Tanner's finished asking his questions and taking copious notes on his tablet computer, so he excuses himself. Bond gives her questioning look and she says, "There are one or two more things we need to discuss, 007", and he nods and remains in his chair.

As soon as Tanner's out of the office, M engages the privacy protocol, then she gets to her feet and rounds her desk to stand beside Bond's chair.

"How are you, really?" she asks, looking down at him as she squeezes his shoulder. He looks weary, she notices, but not utterly exhausted.

"Glad to be home," he says, "and even gladder to see you." He catches hold of her wrist as she lowers her hand, then tugs gently, and she finds herself sitting in his lap, and then he's kissing her. 

She kisses him back just as hungrily, feeling warmth and moisture pool in her sex, and feeling his cock stiffen, too. Her nipples tighten and she moans as Bond deepens the kiss, his tongue stroking the inside of her mouth.

"Christ, I've missed you," he tells her as they pull apart to catch their breath. "You've ruined me for other women, M."

She arches an eyebrow at him. "Me?"

"Yes, you. I kept comparing the women with whom I was dealing with you, and they all fell far short – both in intelligence, and in sheer sexiness."

"James – " she begins to protest, but he silences her with another kiss, and she groans when she feels his large hand between her thighs, one fingertip rubbing up and down the lips of her sex through the silk of her French knickers. She shifts, spreading her legs for him, and he murmurs approvingly as he slips a finger inside her, and begins to stroke her.

She has to bury her face in the side of his neck to muffle her cry of pleasure as he sends her over the edge into a shuddering climax. When he eases his finger free, she kisses him, then sucks his finger clean before slipping off his lap. She moves towards her desk, then flicks a look at him over her shoulder, smiling invitingly.

She sees his eyebrows rise, then a thoroughly wicked smile graces his lips. "Really?" he asks, even as he's getting to his feet.

She smirks. "Really. We both know we've thought about this, and often."

She leans her weight on her desk, her legs spread, and hears him groan behind her, then his hands are tugging her knickers down. She hears his zip and waits, biting her lip in shivery anticipation. He clasps her hips and pulls her further back towards him, then his right hand drops, and a moment later she feels his cock pressing against her sex.

"Sure you don't want any lube?" he asks, his breath hot and ragged against her ear.

"Fuck me, James," she orders, and he groans, then begins to push his thick prick into her.

M groans herself as he fills her; she had somehow forgotten just how much of a monster cock he possesses, but it feels so good, just as she remembered it did.

Once he's buried to the hilt, he stills, then she feels his hands unfastening her blouse, before they cup her tits.

"I want to fuck these," he tells her, squeezing them through the lace and silk of her bra.

"If you're a very good boy, I'll let you," she tells him, breathless with desire at the thought. She reaches up and unfastens her bra. "There you are, better access."

He begins squeezing and fondling her breasts, then twisting her nipples as his hips also begin to move, and M pushes back at him as he thrusts into her. 

"Yes, James, yes. Fuck me hard." She eggs him on, squeezing her pussy muscles rhythmically around his thrusting cock, aware of another orgasm coiling tighter and tighter inside her. 

She has to bite her lip to stop herself crying out with pleasure when he pushes her over the edge a second time, but she can't quite restrain a low moan when he comes, and she feels his cock spurting inside her.

He nuzzles the side of her neck as he eases his body away from hers, then turns her around and kisses her again, and she revels in the feeling of stickiness on her thighs. She ought to feel guilty, she supposes, not only for fucking her agent a second time, but also for cuckolding Reg with James, but she doesn't. In over forty years of service to SIS, she's broken so many rules, even occasionally the laws of other countries, and it is far too late to start feeling guilty over her behaviour now.

"Come and have dinner with me this evening," she says as James grabs a handful of tissues from the box on the corner of her desk and kneels at her feet. Then she moans when he lifts her skirt to begin licking his cum from her thighs.

He cleans her up swiftly, then reappears, his smirk rivalling that of the Cheshire Cat. "I'd love to," he tells her, depositing the used tissues in the wastepaper basket beside her desk.

She pushes up onto tiptoes and presses her body against his. "If you're a very good boy, I might even let you fuck my tits tonight," she whispers, and he groans, clutching her to him, then kisses her savagely.

"What time shall I be there?"

"Seven o'clock." 

"I'll be there," he promises, and as he lets himself out, she wonders how to get through the next three hours without letting on to anyone that all she wants to do is rush home and fuck her best agent.

She inhales deeply, then moves around her desk, forcing herself not to think about the use it's just been put to, and settles into her chair: there are reports to read, enquiries to answer, and quite enough work to be going on with – Bond will have to wait.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Chair - Version Two](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2187951) by [Wolfsbride](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfsbride/pseuds/Wolfsbride)




End file.
